Ascension: Fates Entwined
by Albion Girls
Summary: Shortly following the events of Fable III, Theresa sends two heroes on a mutual quest which sets their paths on a collision course. From their fateful meeting, it will be a race against time to locate and dispatch an ancient evil that threatens the entire world. Will they forge the alliance necessary to thwart the sinister plot, or will its architect be resurrected?


The ancient Necropolis of Snowspire harbored more than snow trolls and the fabled ghostly apparitions said to roam within. For one newly awakened hero, it contained a priceless relic deep inside one of its tombs; one that she would need in order to find answers regarding her true identity. She did not know what it looked like or how she would extract any decipherable information from it; she only knew what the blind, hooded woman in her dreams told her: _You will find the missing piece of your puzzle sealed within the last tomb of the Necropolis_.

Pulling a crudely drawn, tattered map from her pocket, she fumbled to unfold it with partially frozen fingers. "Blast!" she yelled as the parchment fell into the snow.

"'Fraid that'll do ya no good here, young lady." The voice of a man rang out just ahead of her where she stood by a large archway, but she saw no one there.

In one swift, fluid motion, the hero drew her pistol with one hand and pushed her hood back with the other. Her long, raven hair blew wildly in the bitter winds. "Show yourself!" she demanded, pointing her weapon just ahead.

"You'll have to excuse Mungo," a deeper, raspier voice answered just before the ghostly image of a guardsman passed through the weathered stone doors, as if they didn't exist. "What he means to say is that no one passes through without permission."

The hero's jaw hung slightly agape. A faint tremble shook her hand as she lowered her weapon, perhaps from the chill or from the nerves that the unexpected sight had stirred up. Either way, she knew that her bullets would be useless against an apparition immune to physical obstacles. She pondered a moment before making her next move, uncertain of what physical threat, if any, the spectral posed.

"Permission from _who_?" she asked in return.

"We take our orders from Scythe," he promptly replied, folding his translucent arms across what would have been his body, were he living.

"Scythe…" she recited back with confidence, despite the name feeling so foreign and awkward rolling off her tongue. Her breath fogged the air and her brow raised slightly as she plotted to gain entry in the best way she knew how: _deception_. "...sent me," she finished.

"Is that right?" the other ghostly guard chimed in as he joined his partner. "Well we haven't heard nothin' of it."

The corner of the hero's mouth curled up into a devious grin. She holstered her weapon and bent down to retrieve her useless map before taking a few steps toward the guards. "Oh, so you _have_ heard?"

Their features, while transparent and ethereal, were clear as day. They regarded one another with complete bewilderment, shaking their heads before looking back at the hero before them. "What?" Mungo asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Well, you said you have _not_ heard _nothing_ ," she began, taking another step forward. "Which could only mean you _have_ heard _something_." She took care to walk around the apparitions, suspecting that they may not be aware of their postmortem state. Stopping on the other side of them, just before the doorway, she added, "Excellent work, both of you. I will be sure to tell your master of your impressive diligence here in verifying my credentials." Her wide, dark eyes burned with determination.

The ghosts looked at her, and then at each other, shrugging. "Well, then," Mungo said to the other guard. "I guess you'd better show her through."

"Nice try," the other replied. "It's your turn and you know it."

" _My_ turn? Again? But what about the last one that just—"

"Letting one slip through doesn't count, mate."

"Oi! What're you tryin' to say?"

As they bickered on, the hero found the perfect opportunity to squeeze through a small opening in the crumbling stone, completely unbeknownst to her onlookers. Dusting herself off just on the other side, she looked up at the most vast cemetery she'd ever laid eyes on. Vast and intimidating as it was, there was something else about this place that sent shivers down her spine. The wind here carried on it voices, whispers, _moans_ , likely from its buried residents.

She did her best to shake off the unsettling feeling because she could not afford to fail this quest. This relic was everything; the key to her own identity. She would sooner add her name to the long list of the dead within than leave this place empty handed.

The hero readied herself for anything, pulling her hood back up to shroud herself and retrieving both pistols from the holsters which were strapped around her long, slender legs. Holding her weapons up and at the ready, she began to make her way, her footsteps silent yet steady.

Transcending all of the eerie sounds which posed little threat apart from their unsettling nature, was the familiar and more earthly sound of a blade clashing violently against ice and stone ahead in the distance. The hero's heart rate quickened and adrenaline surged through her as she sprang into action. Taking care not to let emotions or fear cloud her judgment, she slowed her breathing. Her level of awareness became instantly heightened, and she then zeroed in on a definitive path of disturbed snow trailing off ahead.

" _No_ ," she vowed through a clenched jaw before darting off in the direction of the sounds of battle, led by the tracks of whomever had left them.

* * *

Blocking the dual-edged blade of a summoned Guardian, a golden-haired hero, stared past her foe toward her true goal, a lone coffin sitting at the back of the area. With a grunt, she shoved the Guardian backward, using a blast of her newly-discovered Will abilities. She swung her sword to loosen her muscles, and she was conscious of her body's position as she prepared for the onslaught.

Three Guardians were left, one hurling balls of lightning, and the other two assaulting her directly with their blades. The lightning was becoming more difficult to dodge as her concentration began waver, along with her strength. She was hit in the shoulder, and she cried out with pain, but that quickly morphed into a roar of anger as she lunged at the nearest of her adversaries.

"I won't be beaten today!" she yelled, her voice coming out much more powerful than she appeared. She wasn't menacing in stature, but she more than made up for it in tenacity. Each swing of her blade was sure and accurate. Each footstep was practiced, and each movement flowed into the next like a graceful dance.

She rolled to avoid a magical attack, and she used the momentum gained to hurl her sword square in the chest of one of the Guardians.

With a loud gurgling cry, the creature crumpled to the ground, defeated. The two remaining would not prove to be any simpler to defeat.

She rose to her feet, her heart racing, but she drew in a few calming breaths. She ran her fingers over her hair, pushing the unruly waves out of her face, and she eyed her sword. The sword-wielding Guardian stepped in front of his fallen companion, blocking her path.

She sighed. She'd have to resort to using her extremely powerful, yet wildly unpredictable magical abilities. Quickly, she planned her next move. If she darted forward, she'd be in range for both the swing of a wicked-looking blade as well as the will-user's attack. If she attacked the will-user first, then used that as a distraction…

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted another contender. This was human, as far as she could tell, and she was armed with pistols. The Guardians spotted this woman as well, and the blonde hero used the distraction as an opportunity to run for her sword.

She used her will to propel her forward, at an inhuman speed, and she snatched her blade, swinging it with a flourish straight into the blade of The Guardian.

Gunfire echoed through the Necropolis, and she heard the other Guardian shriek with obvious pain.

' _I can't let anyone else have it_ ,' she thought as she crossed blades with the Guardian. She had worked too hard, researched too much for someone to swoop in and reap the benefits. "It's mine."

The Guardian swung powerfully toward her, and she jumped out of the way, the blade missing her by mere inches. She bounded forward, using every bit of strength she had to drive her blade through the thick armor that covered the creature's chest.

She withdrew her blade before it had a chance to fall, and she flicked the creature's blood into the snow, noting its dark, unnatural color. She didn't allow herself too much time to relish in the feel of victory, for now she saw that the other woman had dispatched the last Guardian easily.

She turned, raising her sword and taking a moment to truly scrutinize the other woman. She didn't look like one of her countrymen. The intruder was tall like some of her kin, yes, but her dark hair and features were completely foreign.

Perhaps she was a treasure hunter. She would not be the first foreigner to come to The Necropolis to loot the caskets in search of gold and jewels, nor would she be the last.

' _After I get what I need, she can have the rest. I have no need for riches,'_ she thought, believing it to be a fair compromise.

"Leave, and I will do you no harm," the golden-haired Hero proclaimed, taking on a fighting stance once more, but instead of raising her sword, she lifted a hand as a gesture of peace. If forced to, she would fight to protect the artifact she searched for. It was her purpose, her destiny. "I only want one thing. The rest of the treasures—they are yours."

The taller hero narrowed her eyes as she raised both pistols, holding the other at point-blank range. Deceiving this woman would not be an option. She had clearly known of the artifact, and backing down would not be an option, that much was evident in her determined, forest-green stare. No, this situation called for a different approach—one that, if not handled properly, could end with either of their bloodshed. "Well, at least _one_ of your statements is true," she replied, her tone uncharacteristically nonchalant for the situation. "You _will_ do me _no_ harm." Keeping her fair-haired opponent in her cross-hairs, she carefully sidestepped toward the tomb. "Because my bullets will pierce you _long_ before you'd have a chance to retaliate."

"I am not afraid of bullets," the other woman warned, raising her sword. She wasn't about to simply concede because her rival had pistols. There were ways to close the distance that would effectively strip the other woman of her advantage. "I will not hesitate to end this, however I have to."

The other hero grinned instinctively, almost amused by the idea that a melee weapon could beat her projectiles. "Brave," she remarked. " _Stupid_ , but brave." Her grin faded as her eyes burned with determination. "I certainly do not relish the idea of adding a fresh corpse to the cemetery, lovely, but you are leaving me no choice. Make your move, if you must, but first tell me your name so that I can etch it on your grave."

"Viola," she spat, continuing to size her opponent up. "If you must know. And your name, gunslinger?"

"I'm Liandra," she replied with facetious politeness. "Rightful owner of the artifact you're trying to take."

Scoffing at Liandra's statement, Viola merely shook her head. She was confident of her abilities. From deep inside of herself, Viola gathered her Will, hoping to catch the interloper off guard. A shield would be useful until she could close in, and from there, perhaps a fireball? She gripped her sword tightly in both hands, her grip almost painfully tight. She took a confident step forward. She met with her challenger's fierce stare, and her course of action was clear. It would come to blows. Neither of them would concede.

Liandra noticed her opponent's glowing Will lines and she cursed to herself. She wasn't dealing with the average, run-of-the-mill grave robber. She was about to duel another _hero_. Not exactly what she had bargained—or prepared—for. Magic was very new to her; an ability she neither asked for or liked much, but she knew she had to use it to win now. With quick reflexes, she dropped her pistols and summoned a small ball of lightning and hurled it at Viola's chest.

With a sharp gasp, Viola reacted to Liandra's attack as quickly as she could, but it wasn't quick enough. She dashed to the side, but the lightning still struck her in the left arm, where she'd been struck by the Guardian's attack before. The shock nearly caused her to drop her sword. She wielded the blade in one hand, her pain spurring on anger, which granted her strength.

She lunged forward, a battle cry tearing from her throat. She raised her sword, ready to strike, but before she could reach Liandra, an unimaginable force wrapped itself around her body, freezing her to her spot. Panic seized her, and she felt her sword slip from her hand, falling into the snow. She tried to power her way through the seizing magic, but it was useless, she couldn't move. Her heart pounded wildly, and panic coursed through her. This would be her end, and that meant failure. Shame and humiliation flooded through her.

Before Liandra could finish the job, she, too, became immobilized by the same magical anomaly that held her opponent back. She struggled to break free, but her exertions only caused the restraining forces to grip her in place with more power, causing an unbearable compression to wrap around her limbs. She gritted her teeth, yelping in pain.

"You are going to need each other," said a deep, wizened voice in the distance. " _Alive_."

Theresa, the blind Seeress who was responsible for sending both heroes to this very place, appeared near the unopened tomb. Her hands glowed radiantly as she held them up, channeling the crippling spell to protect them both from making a fatal mistake.

"Why put us on a path to set us against one another?" Viola croaked through the binding spell. She had given up trying to wriggle free when she realized it was Theresa that held her in place. "You told me that I needed to procure the artifact in this Necropolis. You didn't make it clear that I would have help."

"Your journey was equally as important as your destination," Theresa said, lowering her hands and allowing both women to move freely again. "Viola, you have always felt the weight of duty on your shoulders. Would you have truly accepted being told to share that burden—that you are incapable of bearing it alone?"

Viola tried to regain her composure and balance. Her face burned red with embarrassment, and she remained quiet, knowing that Theresa's words were true. She was not used to sharing responsibility with others, and it was just as much a fault as it was a strength.

"So you just tell people what you want them to hear, then. Is that it?" Liandra flexed her hands a few times, loosening the stiffness from the uncomfortable spell before retrieving her pistols from the ground and roughly holstering them. "You don't know me at all." Her eyes narrowed and she shot a discontented glare in Theresa's direction. "If you did, perhaps you'd have known that I _only_ work alone. You set the stage for a disaster here."

"That way of life may have been your means of survival, but now you must do more than just survive. If you cannot allow yourself to find alliance in another," Theresa warned, "your true destiny will remain unfulfilled."

Viola gathered her sword from its place in the snow, and she slid it into its sheath. She took a few cautious steps toward Liandra, and she drew in a deep breath. She offered her gauntlet-covered hand toward the other Hero, feeling sheepish and humbled. "I suppose if our goals are the same, then I am willing to work with you, Liandra."

"Alright, then." Liandra grasped the other hero's forearm, and she, in turn, reciprocated. "After all, you never know what other lovely little surprises lie ahead that Theresa has failed to tell us about."

The heroes nodded to one another, grinning halfheartedly. They both looked over to where the strange, meddling Seeress was previously standing, only to find that she'd already vanished into thin air.

* * *

It took mere minutes to open the tomb and retrieve the artifact within. As it had turned out, the heroes may not have been able to access the item without the aid of each other's unique skill sets. Liandra was extremely proficient in lock-picking and code cracking, and Viola possessed a strength like none other, powerful and unwavering. Together, they were able to make rather quick work of what would otherwise have been an impossible challenge. Only one thing was left, now, and that was to take this missing piece to the Oracle.

Mesmerized by the blue glow that emitted from the stone glyph, Liandra closely studied all of the intricate lines carved within it, wondering if anything could be derived from something so cryptic. She lightly traced a finger across the symbols before moving to place the item inside her pack. While she did agree to cooperate with Viola, she certainly did not trust her. To Liandra, trust was something that had burned her in the past; an unnecessary risk with devastating repercussions.

"What do you think you're doing?" Viola almost gasped with both worry and accusation. She stepped forward, hands outstretched and ready to seize the precious treasure as gently as possible. All of the texts and scrolls she'd read were ancient, which meant that this relic, this vital treasure was even more so.

"Well, what would you suggest then?" Liandra replied, wrapping the artifact with some unused cloth bandages she'd had inside her bag.

"I've been preparing. I made _this_ ," Viola said, pulling from her pack a soft velvet bag that cinched with a drawstring. "For _that."_ She nodded in the direction of the glyph. She walked up to the other woman and dared to grab the edge of the artifact with as gentle of a touch as she could manage, ready to place it into the cushioned sack.

The glyph vibrated at the simultaneous touch of both heroes, glowing with more radiance as it seemingly split itself diagonally down the middle. A deafening, resonating sound filled the air as a fierce blinding light spilled from the fracture. Both heroes instinctively reacted by covering their ears tightly and squeezing their eyes shut. Then, in an instant, the disturbance was over; the light faded and the ear-piercing sound vanished into thin air.

Liandra glanced over at Viola, baffled by what had just taken place. Her glare demanded answers; answers she suspected the other hero to have since finding out she had known much more about the mysterious glyph than initially letting on. "And what in the void was _that_?" she shouted before bending down to pick up her fragment, immediately noticing its absent glow. " _Now_ what will we do?"

Viola gaped at the broken pieces of the artifact. She took the pieces, staring at them for a few moments, and she sighed, looking at the bag she'd brought along for them, feeling a bit deflated that her thought and effort had been all for naught. "And I took such care, hand-sewed that bag, and it's just bro—"

Suddenly an onslaught of knowledge overtook them both, and they became knocked off-balance by a mutual vision.

 _Two figures stood holding the artifact, each one grasping an opposing end as they chanted cryptically in unison. One man wore thick, fur-lined leather armor which had been embossed with the royal seal of The Northern Wastes. His ice-blue eyes were one of the only facial traits that remained unobscured by his long, golden hair and beard. The other man possessed much darker features, wearing more traditional armor under a cloak embroidered with the royal seal of Albion. Both of them glowed with lines of Will._

 _The tomb before them lay open, waiting to contain the precious item. The men continued weaving their spell as they lowered the item into its resting place, implementing specific conditions that would need to be met before the seal could ever be broken. Great strain and fatigue marked both of their faces as they completed their mutual task. As they turned to one another and grasped each other's forearm in accord, their images vanished into a gust of snow._

 _Suddenly, The Oracle—a great stone monument set with four ancient faces—came into focus. Each face had a worn, stone glyph that corresponded to it. They flashed in sequence, revealing the key to unlocking the ancient being's magical knowledge._

Viola's eyes snapped open, and she couldn't conceal the puzzlement that washed over her face. "One of those men…" she started, blinking a few times with shock. "One of those men was my father."

Liandra remained expressionless, opening her mouth to respond, but quickly closing it to swallow her words. "And I believe that was the former King of Albion with him," she replied plainly with a shrug before quickly changing course. "Did you see the glyphs, though?" Her face lit up with peaked interest.

Viola refocused, nodding. "The Oracle has been dormant for centuries, and as far as my people's history can recount, the last person to activate it is the Hero that finally defeated Jack of Blades. No one knew how it might be activated, or if it ever could be activated again. Those glyphs, the sequence in which they're activated, is the key to unlocking it? Rather simpler than I thought it might be." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps it will only respond to those with Heroic blood, or there might be some other requirement unknown to anyone."

"I don't understand." Liandra replied, confused and mildly annoyed. "Theresa could tell me very little about the relic. Not even the most secretive and guarded archives contain anything about it. I've found information on Snowspire.. Even this Necropolis—" She paused, pulling her crudely sketched map from her pocket. "Was mapped in one of those libraries."

"Are you a scholar?" Viola questioned, curiosity coloring her features.

"I can be very persuasive." Liandra smirked. "And I'm also pretty good at slipping in and out of places undetected."

Viola mirrored Liandra's smirk, and she nodded. "A skill that is undoubtedly very useful."

Liandra shot a surprised glance in Viola's direction. "Most people find my particular skillset… _less than respectable_." Her words dripped with sarcasm as she raised one brow.

"My country has been rather secluded from the rest of the world for centuries," Viola explained. "We keep to ourselves—always have. We usually keep our records and history to ourselves, but King Sparrow came to try to broker peace and partnership with my father, but it seems there was other business that they attended to that I was unaware of." Her face fell, and she sighed. "Before he died, he did leave me vital information that eventually led me here, so perhaps he meant for me to find this."

"Your father— _oh_ …" Liandra raked a hand through her hair, sighing. She had just realized that the woman she attacked was a monarch. "So you're the Queen of the North, then? I honestly hadn't known that this country was under anyone's rule. I've travelled around the world, and The Northern Wastes are thought of as a ghost land nearly everywhere, if they even know of it." She shook her head. "Gah, now I feel pretty stupid."

"The Northern Wastes is what this place was once called, but now we call it Frostgarde," Viola explained. "For years, this place was secluded, and to be honest, I think my ancestors preferred it that way. The population of Frostgarde has been growing over the past few years, so it's become necessary for us to expand. In order to expand, I must reach out to Albion once more, I think, but that could prove to be perilous. I'm still not convinced that it is the best thing to do." She paused for a moment, realizing that she was going on about herself, and she turned her attention back to her companion. "So, what answers do you seek from The Oracle?"

Liandra opted to hold her tongue on answering Viola's query. The answers she sought were… _complicated_ , to say the least. Looking up at the overcast sky, she finally replied, "It's getting late." She flicked open the barrels on her pistols, quickly assessing her ammo. "We should probably set off now, or we'll never reach the Oracle before sundown."

* * *

 _ **Note from the Authors: We hope you enjoyed the first chapter of what we have planned to be quite an epic tale. Beginning our story shortly after the events of Fable III allowed us to keep our favorite characters in play, while avoiding the need to rehash the same in-game events we're certain you've all read time and time again. We are excited to be bringing back some of the more ancient, nostalgic Fable lore, and will be revealing even more as our story progresses.**_

 _ **Thank you for joining us on this new adventure! Be sure to fave/follow for updates, and reviews are very much appreciated.**_

 _ **\- A &A**_


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